


In a Perfect World

by Lissadiane



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cats, M/M, derek hale's cat sanctuary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 23:06:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8227877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lissadiane/pseuds/Lissadiane
Summary: “There a problem, Sheriff?”
Stiles goes very still, but despite his best efforts, the three cats he’s got stashed in his (very roomy) duffle bag manage to tumble back out and onto the floor, where they meow at him accusingly, all while rubbing against his shins.
“It’s not what it looks like,” he says, straightening slowly.
“It looks like you’re trying to steal my cats,” Derek says. He’s leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, eyes dark with all sorts of judgement, and in a perfect world, this would have turned out so, so differently...





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally found on my [ Tumblr!](http://lissadiane.tumblr.com)

“There a problem, Sheriff?”

Stiles goes very still, but despite his best efforts, the three cats he’s got stashed in his (very roomy) duffle bag manage to tumble back out and onto the floor, where they meow at him accusingly, all while rubbing against his shins.

“It’s not what it looks like,” he says, straightening slowly.

“It looks like you’re trying to steal my cats,” Derek says. He’s leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, eyes dark with all sorts of judgement, and in a perfect world, this would have turned out so, so differently.

In a perfect world, Stiles wouldn’t have had the need for three cats anyway.

In a perfect perfect world, Stiles wouldn’t be the freaking sheriff right now.

But this is far from a perfect world.

“That depends on how you define ‘stealing,’” Stiles says, trying for a winning grin. Derek’s eyes grow frostier, judgier.

“I don’t know, Sheriff,” he says, mockery in every syllable. “How does the law define ‘stealing’?”

“Taking without the intention of returning,” Stiles says promptly, rubbing the back of his neck. “And I was totally, totally going to return them.”

Derek doesn’t look appeased. The three cats – the three most well-adjusted, happy, fattest cats Stiles had been able to find in Hale’s Feline Sanctuary – have given up reproaching him and are now nosing in a bowl of kibble, none the worse-for-wear from having been temporarily stuffed in a duffle bag.

“Listen,” Stiles says. “I can explain.”

“I’m listening,” Derek says.

Stiles sighs. He just wishes he could come up with a lie that sounds less pathetic than the truth.

*

“So let me get this straight,” Derek says, still cold. “You needed to borrow three cats – three chubby, well-adjusted, happy cats – to temporarily move into your home because your father and his wife are driving up from Sacramento to visit, and if they see any proof to suggest that you are not leading a fulfilling life despite your inability to maintain a healthy, adult relationship, they’ll try setting you up with your stepbrother.”

“Again,” Stiles says gloomily. “It’s gross. Well, he’s okay. But we’re like, best friends. And he’s pretty straight. I mean, there was the usual early teenaged making out stuff, you know, but I’m pretty sure fourteen-year-old boys can get off rubbing up against a tree if the tree was willing.” Stiles swallows hard. He doesn’t mention that those few awkward making outs with Scott had begun his own careful realizations that dudes could be awesome. Or that Derek Hale – beautiful, grumpy, super muscly Derek Hale, capable of growing a gorgeous moustache when most boys were still hoping for a decent amount of peach fuzz – had been responsible for cementing the idea in Stiles’ mind.

There’s a beat of silence. “How will cats help this situation?”

“Well,” Stiles says, eyes wide. “It’s a thing. Isn’t it? No one’s lonely if they have a cat. Or three. Three’s a good number. One means you’re a lonely, two means you’re functionally lonely, three means you’re embracing being alone.”

Derek doesn’t look like he believes him. “So, after they leave, then what? You’re just going to… re-abandon Etta, Miller and Stevie?

Stiles hesitates, glancing at the three cats – the pudgy calico, the puffy tabby, the round little black cat. He isn’t a cat person, exactly. But looking at them now, happily munching their kibble and having forgiven him for his attempt to steal them, he’s a little ashamed of himself.

“I hadn’t really thought about that,” he said, frowning. “That’s a dick move.”

Derek sighs, straightening up. He considers Stiles for a few minutes, looking indecisive, his eyes moving from Stiles’ face to his shoulders, down to his hips, and back up again, snagging on the gun belt, the shiny badge, his throat. Stiles swallows, wondering how much trouble he – an officer of the law, who’d taken his father’s place as sheriff the year before – would get in if Derek decides to lodge a complaint.

“You could always…” Derek looks away, shrugging and uncomfortable. “Do something less drastic?”

“Like a fake boyfriend?” Stiles asks, frowning with a shrug. “I thought of that, but it would take so much effort to maintain the lie, so I thought –”

“You could try to actually date someone,” Derek says. Then he clears his throat. “Maybe.”

Stiles blinks. “I’m pretty low on prospects,” he admits, face slowly turning red. “I’m really busy with work, and –”

Derek grits his teeth and he looks terribly uncomfortable, but he interrupts and says, “I’ve got some time. If you wanted.”

Stiles falters, staring at him and then at the cats roaming the cat sanctuary around them. “I’m not going to steal your cats,” he says. “That was wrong of me. You don’t have to, like, sacrifice yourself on their behalf.”

“Stiles,” Derek says, and Stiles snaps his mouth shut, because he doesn’t know when Derek ever learned his first name. “Do you want to go for dinner? With me? On a date. With me.” He’s glaring at something just over Stiles’ left shoulder.

Stiles has questions. So, so many questions. They all start getting jumbled up in his head before he can decide what to ask first, and then Derek is saying, “Never mind,” and turning away.

So Stiles blurts, “Will you help me cook dinner for my dad and maybe leave your jacket on the couch and take a few selfies that I can magnet to my fridge?”

Derek is blinking at him now, slow and confused, but then he shrugs and says, “Sure.”

Stiles grins.

*

In the end, he goes home with Derek Hale’s phone number, a First Date all set up, and fat little Stevie carefully tucked away in a cat carrier and buckled into his passenger seat, all legally adopted with a pet welcome package to make sure she’s comfortable in her new home.

Maybe it was a perfect world after all.


End file.
